


A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.

by stillirise



Series: Don't care about all the pain in front of me cause I'm just trying to be happy. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders' Era, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillirise/pseuds/stillirise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She really wished he was lying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.

"I don't have to listen to this," Lily said, her voice was shaky.

 _It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter._ She started to rise and he followed suit.

At the last minute, she whirled around, jamming her finger into the Potter's chest. 

He didn't flinch, just staring evenly at her. 

"He loves me," She ground out through gritted teeth, chin up and green eyes stubborn. "Severus is my best friend. Of course he wouldn't hurt me. He _loves_ me."

"I don't doubt that," he shrugged with easy practiced arrogance, but she caught a flash of pain in his brown depths.

 _Good,_  she thought vindictively, and set to leave the room, almost out the door.

His voice gave her a pause she reluctantly turned to face him, to hear what else he had to say.

"Snape loves you," Potter agreed, raking a hand through his mop of mess he called hair, "Honest to Merlin, I think that git really does." Then, he added, eyes careful, voice oozing infuriating sincerity and hesitancy as if he didn't want to hurt her. Ha. What a fine joke? All Potter ever did was hurt her. "The question is... does he love power more than he could _ever_ love you."

She didn't dignify that with response, marching out the door in two long strides.

The door slammed shut, and she ran like a dementor was chasing her.

She swung open the door of her dormitory.

_Thank god._

It was empty.

She closed the door, sliding down the back of it.

"I don't know," she admitted, eyes watering as she rocked back and forth, clutching her head as if she were in pain.

She probably looked have mad, but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

"I don't know anymore," she confessed aloud where no one could hear her.

**Author's Note:**

> A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.  
> — William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence"


End file.
